


A Kid From Brooklyn

by willowoak_walker



Category: Captain America: The First Avenger - Fandom
Genre: Gen, from tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:23:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9985109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowoak_walker/pseuds/willowoak_walker





	

But imagine: Steve coming out of the machine looking exactly the same, and Peggy reaching out to this tiny man and saying, 

“How do you feel?” And the only answer Steve can come up with is,

“Different,” because he still hurts, but it’s different kind of pain, burning under his skin, not buried in his bones. He doesn’t feel better, he doesn’t feel bigger, he doesn’t want to feel like a failure. He just feels different. And he takes his shirt from the nurse, and sees the Hydra agent reaching for a weapon and doesn’t think, he just slams Erskine down to the floor out of danger. And that didn’t hurt nearly as much as he expected. So he’s up and running, shirtless, after the agent as Peggy shoots. No-one really takes this seriously, but he’s fast. (His lungs are burning, he can barely breathe, but he’s used to that.) 

The hydra agent doesn’t realize for a while that the scrawny kid following him is a threat, and Steve gets him down on the ground and looks desperately around for the police. The Hydra agent knocks him off, but Peggy taught him well, and he’s got a foot in the agent’s solar plexus. The hydra agent doesn’t know how to walk through not being able to breathe. So Steve has the advantage for a few precious moments. 

The agent goes down with a broken ear drum, bruised testicles, and a broken arm. He’s in too much pain to answer anyone’s questions. He’s also in too much pain to kill himself. (They stick a stick in his mouth so he won’t bite off his tongue. He can’t bite through it.)

There is no Captain America dancing in shows and carrying cars, but there is a rumour on the battlefields that Sergeant Barnes’ Howling Commandos have more than the beautiful, terrifying Peggy Carter up their sleeves. 

(”Who are you?” the Red Skull asks the tiny man wearing the gas mask who is stealing his prey. 

“Nobody special,” the mask garbles the voice, but the words are clear. “I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.”)

 


End file.
